


When did the building fall down?

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Audrey has gone into the barn, M/M, Nathan is Not Coping, Suicidal Thoughts, angst-fuelled smut, canon typical violence and injury, fight scenes are way harder to write than sex scenes if anyone was wondering, inspired by a Spuffy scene but you don't need to have seen Buffy for this to make sense, season three, the Troubles have ended (for now), there is a little fluff at the end, unhealthy coping mechanisms in the face of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14635596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: It started withthis tumblr post quoting some of Buffy's lines to Spikeand thoughts about how that could be Nathan talking about Duke, and then my brain went toBuffy and Spike's “When did the building fall down?” momentand I thought I had a good idea for some smut. There is a fair bit of angst though before the smut happens.This diverges from canon near the end of the season three finale.Thank you toGreyHavenfor the sense check and the enthusiasm :)





	1. Duke

So here she was, asking him to do one last impossible thing for her. He took Nathan's gun from Audrey’s hand and promised that he would stop Nathan from following her. He watched her say goodbye to him, and he held Nathan back as she walked into the Barn.

It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

For a moment he thought it was over, but then there was shooting; Nathan had snatched his gun back and aimed it at Agent Howard. Duke expected to see the FBI man fall, but instead watched as Howard flickered out of existence for the moment it took the bullet to pass through his space.

Duke blinked and shook his head;  _ What else could the Barn do? _ But in that moment, there was another shot; Jordan had fired at Nathan. She had hit him too, his Trouble meaning only that he refused to acknowledge it, even as his body sank to his knees.

Duke went to him, trying to see how bad the wound was since Nathan wouldn't be able to tell, but Nathan pushed him away. “Go!” Nathan practically shouted at him, and Duke was about to tell him to let him help, but then Nathan said again, ever so slightly calmer and with just a little more detail, “Go after her.” He looked up at Duke with the most pleading and desperate expression he'd ever seen. “Go help Audrey,” Nathan said.

Duke turned and stood and ran. The Barn was starting to disappear, collapsing in on itself.  _ Is this what's supposed to happen? _ Duke thought. He ran, hard, and launched himself towards the spot where the remains of the Barn hung in the air above the hill.

But by the time he got there it was gone, and he made an uneventful landing back on the grass. He shouted in frustration, Audrey’s name in there in amongst some incoherent rage.

He looked up and took in the view of the town. The meteors were still falling, though the rate seemed to be slowing a little.  _ Were the Troubles supposed to stop right away? _ he wondered; he realised he had no idea.

He stood and turned around to see Nathan, somehow standing again himself and staring at the spot where the Barn had been. His face showed utter despair at the sight; he looked broken, the blood gushing from the gunshot wound in his stomach a minor detail. Duke walked towards him and was just close enough to hear as Nathan said Audrey’s name; the sound held nothing but hurt and loss, his voice a quiet contrast to Duke’s shouts.

Duke looked around to see that Jordan and the others had already left; it was just him and Nathan here now. He pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance, then reconsidered and tried the station. He counted it a rare piece of luck when Stan answered and told him he would have paramedics there in a few minutes. With the chaos that the meteors must be causing, that felt lucky indeed.

He turned back to Nathan, told him help was coming. Nathan looked down at his injury surprised, as though he had forgotten all about it. Maybe he had, Duke realised.

“Will you let me look at that?” Duke asked. “I can try and slow the bleeding at least; you're losing a lot of blood.” Duke moved closer and Nathan didn't react, so Duke pulled off his shirt, bundled it up and held it tight to the wound, his other hand pressing hard against Nathan's back to hold him still. Nathan didn't move, he was still staring across the hill at the place where the Barn had been.

Starting to worry he was going into shock, Duke followed his gaze to look out over the town again. “The meteors are stopping,” he said. “That's something,” allowing the slightest bit of hope to make it into his voice. Then he heard the ambulance making its way up the nearby road; he didn't think he'd ever been so glad to hear the sound of a siren in his life.

“Come on,” Duke said. “The paramedics are here, let them take a look at you.”

He turned them around and started to lead Nathan towards the road. Nathan let himself be pushed along, apparently recognising on some level that he was indeed in need of medical attention. But after a few steps his lip curled in something like disgust and he looked down at Duke’s hand bunched in the blood-soaked shirt, his fingers kept carefully away from the blood itself.

“Get your hands off of me,” Nathan practically growled.

Duke bit back his anger. “Then you need to hold this in place,” he said, and he took his hand away only once Nathan's hand had replaced his, holding the shirt tight to his stomach.

They took a couple more steps, then Nathan spoke again. “I said, take your hands off me,” he repeated, and Duke realised his other hand was still pressed to Nathan's back.

He drew it away, “You can feel again? Your Trouble's gone?”

Nathan ignored him, tried to take another step. Duke didn't need him to answer; he could see by the look on his face that he was feeling the pain of the bullet inside him. Nathan's legs gave way underneath him and Duke sprang forwards to grab him as he collapsed.

Duke called to the paramedics, and once he saw them on their way over he looked down at Nathan again, half-lying in his arms. The despair on Nathan's face had been replaced by anger. “Get. Your hands. Off me,” he gritted out, and Duke stepped away just as the paramedics arrived.

Duke gave them a moment to check him over first, but he couldn't help but ask, “Will he be OK?”

He wasn't sure if they were answering him or just talking to each other, and in between their hurried voices as they faced away from him, and the occasional gust of wind, he only heard them in snatches. But still, it was enough to scare him.

“... lost a lot of blood…”  
“ … need a transfusion…”    
“ … shortage at the hospital's only getting worse…”

A shortage of blood? Duke realised that would make sense with everything that had been going on. “He needs blood?” Duke asked them. “I can donate blood, take it from me,” and he stuck his arm out towards them as though they would do it right there.

Duke saw Nathan start to protest, but the paramedics hadn't noticed and then Nathan passed out. He didn't know if Nathan would want to accept blood from him, but he did know he couldn't watch him die if there was something that might help prevent it. He wasn't going to let Nathan die for nothing but sheer stubbornness and anger at him. So he didn’t point out Nathan’s objection to the paramedics. He'd rather Nathan hate him than be dead.

“We'll need to check your blood types,” one of the paramedics said cautiously.

Duke shook his head, “I'm O negative, I can donate to anyone. Please,” he added, and held his breath waiting for an answer. He couldn't lose both of them on the same day.

It wasn't until he saw the paramedic nod that he breathed again.


	2. Nathan

For the first time in what seemed like forever, the first thing Nathan was aware of as he woke up was not sound or light, but physical sensation. For a moment he would have been glad to have his Trouble back, because the sensation in question was pain. 

He groaned and tried to sit up, but that made it worse and he gasped with the pain of it; searing, throbbing pain that seemed to be everywhere at once, though he knew really that it was just the wound that Jordan had shot into his stomach.

_ Can't blame her really _ , he thought to distract himself,  _ not after the way I treated her _ . He'd done it all for Audrey but now she was gone and nothing made sense any more. He could feel again, but there was no one here he wanted to touch, and so the only thing he had was pain. He closed his eyes and lay still as the doctors fussed around him, feigned sleep until they went away again.

The next time he woke up, he remembered to stay still. He lay there with his eyes closed and listened to the sounds of the hospital for a while. Someone came to check his monitors, made a note on a clipboard. He could have asked them when he'd be able to go home, but since he had nothing to go home to, he kept his mouth shut along with his eyes.

He heard them walk away and their footsteps merged into the general background noise. But then came something else he wasn't expecting. A familiar, though not exactly welcome, voice.

“You may be able to fool the staff Nate, but I can see you're awake. Any reason you don't want them to know?”

Nathan ignored him; lying still was easy, and eventually he heard Duke walk away too.

-

The days merged into each other, but slowly the pain faded and he started moving around again. He was sat on the edge of the bed not-listening to the doctor tell him how long it would be until he was fully healed, when Duke walked in the room. Nathan glared at him, but the doctor was all smiles, greeting Duke by name and telling Nathan how they would have been lucky to have saved his life without the blood that Duke had donated to him.

For a moment, Nathan was confused by the way they talked, as though they were old friends though he knew the doctor was new to Haven. They spoke as though Duke had spent hours here and his brain couldn't process that, but then it latched on to the part that was really throwing him.

“Your blood?” Nathan said to Duke. He could feel in his throat how long it had been since he had spoken. Most of his communication with the hospital staff had been achieved via shakes and nods of his head.

The doctor’s smile faltered as he noticed Nathan's tone of voice and saw the look on Duke’s face.

“Their reserves were running out,” Duke began. “They didn't have any …”

Nathan didn't want to hear it. The whys and the hows didn't matter; it was too late for that now. “I have Crocker blood inside me?” Nathan asked, talking over him. He tried to keep his voice level but he saw that they could both hear his anger.

Duke nodded. 

Confused, the doctor spoke carefully. “It saved your life,” he said.

“Rather be dead,” said Nathan to him bluntly, then turned to look at Duke. “Told you to help Audrey, not me.”

“Yeah I tried OK! You must have seen that I tried!”

“You didn't try hard enough!”

“OK,” the doctor cut in, standing between them. “I don't know what's going on here and I hope you can sort it out, but right now I need to think about my patient, so you need to either calm down or leave,” he said to Duke.

“I tried,” Duke repeated, then he turned and left.

-

Eventually the hospital discharged him and he went back home, went into work, did his job. In the evenings he drank, but not in the Gull. He didn’t want the reminder that Duke had let Audrey go, stopped Nathan from going with her, and not even managed to help her when he’d asked. He also didn't want the reminder that he had Crocker blood swimming through his veins. Had it still been Troubled when it passed his skin? He didn’t think it worked this way, but he couldn't help but wonder what would happen in 27 years time if his Trouble came back and he got Duke’s too. 

Meanwhile, he had nothing to do but wait for nearly three decades to pass until he could see Audrey again, except she would be someone else and she wouldn't even recognise him. She wouldn’t know he’d ever seen her before. She wouldn’t even understand what seeing her would do to him. He understood now why his father had never quit smoking.

He didn’t drink in the Gull because he didn’t want the reminder of the last time he had seen her; Duke holding him back as she walked away.

-

He went to work and he did his job. Sometimes it felt like helping people, and those were the good days. Sometimes it felt like nothing but paperwork and enforcing pointless red-tape, and those were the days he really drank. Sometimes one day seemed just like the next, but then sometimes something different would come in that would remind him why he still turned up.

It was a Thursday afternoon when they got the tip-off about something due to happen that night, in one of the old warehouses on the northern edge of town. They had been half-way derelict even before a meteor hit them, and at some point soon they would be demolished completely. But some of them were still just about standing, and in the meantime they apparently made a good meeting place for black-market deals. The tip-off implied this one tonight was something special - something worse than the general alcohol and tobacco smuggling that might be expected.

It was near the end of Stan’s shift when he gave the information to Nathan, and when Nathan told him he’d follow up on it, he said he’d take back-up with him. But there wasn’t really any back-up to take, and he planned to go alone. He knew it was risky, but when he thought about worst-case scenarios, he found that he simply didn’t care.


	3. Hurt

Some of the warehouses were in slightly better shape than others. The most northerly one still had the majority of its roof and that was the one the black-clad figures moved towards as it started to get dark. There were five of them, and they congregated in the remains of a little side room that had once been the manager’s office.

Five minutes later another figure entered the crumbling space. He wore his hair in a ponytail, and a crumpled old sweater that seemed somehow out of place with the graceful way he moved. He made his way carefully over the rubbish-strewn floor of the large space to stand near the door of the old manager’s office. It was broken enough that it no longer fit its frame; broken enough that it let him hear every word that was said inside.

He listened for a few minutes before he’d heard enough to be sure of what was going on. A smile crept over his face as he shook his head to himself, amused and relieved at what he’d heard. He turned and made to leave, but he hadn’t yet quite got out of the building when he bumped into another man. They were well matched for height and build, the new arrival dressed in black with a Haven PD badge and gun at his belt.

They recognised each other immediately; the first man might have spoken, but the second beat him to it, drawing his gun and aiming it at his chest. “Didn’t expect to find you here Duke,” he said, nudging the barrel of the gun against him. “Didn’t think this was your style.”

Duke raised his hands and shook his head. “It isn’t,” Duke protested. “I’m not here to meet anyone, Nathan. Didn't you notice I was  _ leaving _ ?”

Nathan gestured with his gun for Duke to move further back inside, and reluctantly he did. As Nathan looked around the derelict space, Duke sighed and told Nathan what he was looking for. “There’s at least four of them. In there,” he pointed.

“Right. But you don’t have  _ any _ idea what’s going on. It’s  _ nothing _ to do with you at  _ all _ ,” Nathan’s voice was angry and full of sarcasm, though he lowered his weapon to take another look around the building. 

It must once have been a busy productive space, but it looked like years since anything had been made here. Most of the windows and skylights were smashed and a few shards of glass clung to their edges as the rest littered the floor. There were some pieces of battered furniture and manufacturing equipment scattered about; shelving units, a desk, a few broken chairs. Some of the pillars that supported the roof looked more dilapidated than others, with one in a far corner completely cracked in two. In another corner it looked like there had at some point been a fire, where dark smoke marks fed out from a point near an empty doorway to reach up towards a ragged hole in the roof. The whole place was dimly lit by nothing more than the streetlights outside, and the slowly emerging moonlight. 

“I didn’t …” Duke began angrily, then took a deep breath and tried again, just a little more calmly. “I didn’t come here to meet with them.”

“Why should I believe that? What else are you doing here, admiring the scenery in the dark?” Nathan asked. He put his gun back in its holster, but he didn't clip it shut.

“You really want to know why I’m here?”

“Yes, I want to know!” Nathan’s sarcasm had given way to anger and his voice rose to a shout. “I’ll need it for the paperwork when I arrest you.”

Duke shook his head again. “Fine. I came here tonight because I know those guys and I thought their usual alcohol-based smuggling activities might have branched out into smuggling people. I came here because I thought some nasty shit might be going on and I wanted to try and stop it!” Duke’s efforts to remain calm had faded, and he raised his voice to match Nathan’s. “I came here because I didn't trust you to do your job, Nate! You've been walking around in a daze for months!” he said, frustrated. “I wanted to make sure there was no people trafficking going on in my town.”

“Oh,  _ your  _ town!?”

“Yes, my town. I live here, you may have noticed.”

Nathan reached out in anger, though it wasn’t quite a punch, not yet. He grabbed Duke’s sweater instead and it almost looked like he meant to hold Duke still while he hit him with the other hand. Duke’s hand came up to Nathan’s shoulder as if to try and move him away, though there was no real force behind it.

Then Nathan seemed to reconsider and pushed Duke away instead, turning to walk to the office, and shrugging Duke’s hand from his shoulder. “Let go of me I've got some criminals to arrest, ” Nathan said.

“Pretty sure they left already,” Duke pointed out. “Criminals will tend to do that when they hear the Chief of Police yelling. Or see his blue bronco parked right outside. Subtle clues like that, and even the dumbest law-breakers will tend to scatter.”

“Great, that's just … great,” said Nathan, frustrated and fed up. He walked over to the office anyway, checked it was empty and looked out through the remains of the window to see that the van and cars he had seen parked outside before were gone. He clipped the holster shut over his gun, and walked back towards the door where Duke still stood.

“They weren’t discussing anything interesting,” Duke offered. “They're only trying to shift some smuggled cigarettes.”

“Oh only. Only breaking the law, so why should I worry?” Nathan’s voice was full of sarcasm.

“I just meant …” Duke began, but Nathan stopped him, grabbing his sweater again.

“I could still arrest  _ you _ ,” he pointed out, pushing his bunched-in-sweater fist so that Duke swayed on his feet. “Tip-off didn’t say who might be involved, didn’t specify who wouldn’t be involved. I could still arrest you,” he said again.

Duke pushed Nathan away from him, or tried to anyway, and when Nathan didn't move, Duke lashed out with a fist in frustration, catching the edge of Nathan’s jaw with a crunch. Nathan stepped back, his hand going to his face in surprise as though it were the first punch he'd ever felt. But a moment later he was punching back, and he caught Duke in the ribs, knuckles connecting with bone through fabric, muscle and skin.

Duke stepped back to catch his breath and then ran at Nathan, leaning his shoulder into Nathan's chest to push him back against a pillar. The move was hard enough to draw a creak out of the building and knock the breath out of Nathan, and Duke took the opportunity to speak again.

“You really think arresting me would make you feel better?” Duke asked, frustrated. “You really think that would  _ change  _ anything? You really think …?” he trailed off.

Nathan brought his knee out and up, hard, and it made contact with Duke’s side just below his ribs where his fist had connected before. Duke stepped back and Nathan prompted him to finish his sentence. “What? What do I really think Duke, tell me?”

But Duke hesitated to reply and Nathan responded with a punch to his shoulder, the suddenness of it sending Duke spinning. He reached out to the nearby wall to catch his balance and as he did so a loose nail tangled in the threads of his sweater. Rather than stop to look at it, he simply shrugged it from his shoulders and left it hanging awkwardly on the wall, the beige wool incongruous amongst all the dirt and dust.

Nathan took advantage of the distraction to throw another punch at Duke, and he continued throwing words as well. “You know me  _ so well  _ you're going to tell me what I really think,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words as his fist hit Duke’s side again.

Duke’s face creased into frustration and anger as he finished what he had been going to say. “You really think Audrey would want to see you like this? She gave you …” Duke’s voice faltered with the force of his anger. He pushed at Nathan, who tripped himself and crashed into the same pillar again, which gave off an even louder creak in protest. “She gave you the greatest gift she could and you’re just  _ wasting  _ it,” Duke carried on, the bitterness coming through in his voice now as well. “Wandering around in a daze like, like ….”

Nathan pushed hard against Duke’s chest as he brought a foot behind him. Duke fell back over Nathan's foot, stumbled and went crashing through the remains of a dilapidated dividing wall in a puff of plaster dust and shattered wooden joists. The other room this revealed looked even more derelict and full of unidentifiable old furniture than the first. There were desks and workbenches, filing cabinets, and shelves full of old tools in amongst the dust and general debris. 

But Duke was too involved in untangling himself from the remains of the wall to take in the view. He pushed chunks of drywall off himself, brushed some plaster dust from his hair and looked down at the graze the shattered wood had left down his arm. It wasn’t deep but it was bloody enough to sting. It didn’t slow him down for long though and by the time he was standing again, Nathan was right there, grabbing him and pulling him the rest of the way upright. They were both starting to look the worse for wear; covered in dust, battered and bloodied, and breathing hard with the effort. Duke had a cut over his eye and Nathan's knuckles were red raw where they were bunched in the fabric of Duke’s blue denim shirt.

“Like I’m waiting for her to come back?” Nathan asked. “Why shouldn’t I? What else have I got?”

Duke grabbed Nathan’s shoulders and spun around to bang Nathan into the wall behind him as though to shake some sense into him. “The Troubles are  _ gone _ , Nate! Don't you want that? Don't you want to  _ feel _ ?” he asked, banging him against the wall again on the last word for emphasis.

The men paused in their shouting, their hands gripping each other and their chests moving hard with the force of their anger, and their pain. For a moment, they were both still, and nothing happened at all. And then, Nathan’s eyes fell to Duke’s lips, and he answered the question with an action that meant,  _ Yes:  _ he moved suddenly, darting forward as he pulled Duke towards him. 

Duke reacted a moment after Nathan moved and they met in the middle, lips pressed hard together in a fierce kiss. They pulled hard at each other as they fought for breath and pushed for space. And then, just as suddenly as he had started it, Nathan pushed Duke away. “Didn't want you to save me,” he spat out. 

Duke stared at him for a moment. “You thought I would just let you bleed to death?” he asked, incredulous. 

“You could have!” Nathan pointed out. “Nothing stopping you. You  _ should _ have! Why couldn't you have just let me die!” Nathan yelled, pushing Duke further away from him.

It wasn't really a question, but Duke responded anyway. “Because!” he yelled back, as though that were enough of an explanation. 

“You're supposed to be a criminal,” Nathan added, the bitterness clear in his voice. “You couldn't just walk away from a crime scene? Didn't want you to save me. Why didn't you just walk away?”

“I don't want you  _ dead _ , Nathan,” Duke said before he threw another punch that Nathan was able to block with his arm. “Bruised and bloodied maybe,” he admitted as he wiped some blood from his forehead. “Not dead.”

Nathan put both hands flat on Duke’s chest and pushed him backwards. “What about what I want?” Nathan yelled at him, “Don't I get a say?”

“Not if what you want is to die, no, you don't,” Duke said with feeling after he’d recovered his balance. “You think Audrey would want to see you dead? You think … you think Audrey would have wanted me to walk away and leave you to die alone on that hill?”

Nathan responded with an inarticulate roar of rage and frustration, running towards him to knock Duke over and pin him to an old workbench. Duke looked up into Nathan's eyes and responded by reaching forward for another kiss, grabbing Nathan’s head to pull him close and then running his hands down Nathan's back to his ass. 

Nathan kissed back for a long moment, then pulled himself up out of the kiss just far enough to rip Duke’s already torn shirt from his chest, buttons joining the general debris on the floor. Duke grinned up at him, then he was the one to push at Nathan, tipping them both off the bench so they landed heavily in a tangle, Nathan's back against the dust.

Duke pushed up on his arms and held himself just too far away to be kissed as he pushed his thigh very deliberately between Nathan's legs. Nathan looked up at a him for a moment, breathing hard, something like a gasp escaping his lips before he pushed Duke suddenly off himself, stood and started walking away. 

Duke reached for him, managing to grab only the edge of his jacket which Nathan shrugged out of as he walked. Duke threw it onto the bench behind him and called after Nathan's retreating form, “So, what is it? You think you deserve to die, but you're still too good to roll around in the dirt with me?” Nathan stopped walking and Duke caught up with him as he continued, “Don't try and tell me you weren't having fun, Nate. I saw it in your eyes. Don't try and tell me you don't relish in every single feeling that your body gives you. Even the pain.”

**“** Maybe that’s true,” acknowledged Nathan, “but then maybe, it’s not just  _ my _ pain I relish.” He stepped quickly forward to take a swing at Duke, catching him in the ribs again. Duke responded with a kick, and they fought their way around the space, crashing into pillars and walls, trading blows and sharing kisses, pushing at each other’s bodies and pulling at each other’s clothes, their movements always urgent and intense. 

Duke threw another punch and as Nathan stepped backwards to dodge Duke’s fist, he tripped over a broken chair and stumbled into a shelving unit behind him. Between a few loose screws, shelves with chipped edges and the rough-edged metal sheeting stacked on them, there was plenty there to rip clothing and graze skin and that was what happened as Nathan’s back slid along the shelves before he righted himself. He was left with a t-shirt ripped from shoulder to shoulder, and a long graze along one shoulder blade. He turned his head trying to see it, and reached a hand to feel for the blood. 

Duke saw the blood on Nathan’s fingers and paused. “How deep is that?” he asked.

Nathan wiped his hand on his leg. “It’s fine,” he said dismissing Duke’s concern. He took advantage of the distraction to aim another punch at Duke’s ribs. His knuckles connected with just the same point they had many times before, and winded, tired and bruised, Duke fell. Nathan leant against the wall in the corner of the room, to catch his breath while Duke was sprawled on the floor. Duke’s buttonless shirt revealed a chest and stomach marred by cuts and bruises and streaked with dirt and blood. 

He was slowing down, but he wasn’t done yet. He took a couple of deep breaths and then leapt up to standing, pinning Nathan to the wall with one hand, while the other brought a shard of glass to his chest to cut open the front of Nathan's t-shirt.

He pulled the sharp glass down through the dark cotton from the neck of the t-shirt right through the length of it to the hem. He pushed Nathan harder against the wall as he held the glass up, bringing it back towards Nathan's neck as if to say  _ I could cut you if I wanted, _ then he very pointedly threw it away to the other side of the room.

Nathan huffed out a brief and bitter laugh. “Going soft on me?” he asked as he threw another punch. He was slowing down too though and Duke saw this one coming, ducking out of the way so that Nathan’s fist hit the wall instead. He pulled his hand back to look at the hole it had left in the wall and the extra blood now showing on his knuckles. 

“You want me to cut you?”

“ _ Wanted  _ you to let me die,” Nathan replied in a tone of voice which said that what he wanted was irrelevant; such things never happened.

Nathan ran at him, but the distance between them gave Duke enough warning that he was able to step out of the way. Nathan turned around, enraged, and pinned Duke to the wall where he kissed him again, hard. Duke kissed back just as enthusiastically, pulling their bodies tight together as he ran his hands over Nathan's back and then, bunched in the fabric of the ruined t-shirt, he pulled it from Nathan's shoulders with his fists.

Nathan deepened the kiss, pushed his body against Duke’s and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he stepped away again. For a moment it looked as though he would leave, but when he got to the middle of the room he turned around, pacing like a caged tiger. Duke grabbed for him, pulled him back for a kiss, but Nathan responded with another punch. They pushed at each other, wrestling ineffectively; the both of them too tired now to really do anyone much damage. 

They pushed away from each other. “This level of self-hatred is really not healthy Nathan,” said Duke.

Nathan huffed out a bitter laugh. “It ever occur to you to wonder if it's even myself that I hate? Or just the Troubled Crocker blood they put inside me?”

“Yes. Of course it has,” Duke replied. They stood a few feet apart, and Duke took the opportunity to catch his breath, assess his injuries, try and do the same for Nathan. Although there was no Trouble any more to stop him feeling it, Duke couldn’t be sure if he was processing all the pain he should be. Or how he should be. He couldn’t be sure exactly how self-destructive he was. Lately, he couldn’t be sure Nathan was doing anything sensible at all.

Nathan's face dropped in realisation. “You knew all along! You knew when you did it I wouldn't want it! Why would you do that to me?”

“I couldn't let you die, Nate,” Duke replied, his voice hollow.

“That's no answer. Tell me why!”

“Because!” Duke shouted at him, and stepped forward quickly to grab Nathan's shoulders and shake him, pushing him hard until Nathan's back thumped against the wall again. “Why the fuck do you think?” he asked and punctuated his question with a kiss. Full and searching and long, it pinned Nathan to the wall too. Eventually, Duke pulled back, drew his mouth away and rested his forehead against Nathan's instead. “I couldn't lose you too,” he said quietly.

They stood there, breathing hard, clinging on to each other, sharing each other’s air, and too tired now to fight any more. “Don’t ask me that again,” said Duke eventually. “Don’t ever think that if you died I wouldn’t …” his sentence trailed off and something about the set of his shoulders changed; the fight went out of him.

His eyes were on Nathan’s lips as he pulled his forehead away, and then he was kissing Nathan again, slow and smooth. His fists relaxed into hands and held Nathan’s jaw lightly, brushing against his ear, his fingers careful against bruised skin. 

“Even if you don't care that you're alive, I do,” Duke said. His eyes flicked over Nathan's face, as though to take in every little detail, and his fingers ran along Nathan's jaw, touching him gently. “Underneath the punches, there was always this,” he added as he cupped Nathan’s jaw and ran a thumb gently over his cheek. “Always.”

Duke kissed him again, more gently than anything else so far, and as he pulled away he ran a hand down Nathan’s chest to his stomach. “But surely you know that on some level. You can’t be completely oblivious,” said Duke as he shifted his hips against the bulge in Nathan’s pants, “not any more anyway. Or are you just in denial about me as well as your own body? You are allowed to feel things you know. These sensations are yours and …” He took a breath, as though unsure whether to carry on, but then he did. “She wouldn’t want you to stay cut off from yourself. You are allowed to feel things,” he said again. “Pleasure can exist even in the midst of pain.”

Nathan looked at him then, apparently realising something. It was not clear which of Duke’s words had affected him, but something had. He reached for Duke’s belt, and Duke took that as the cue to reach for Nathan’s. They pulled at leather, metal and denim, and hurriedly moved each other’s clothes out of the way. Nathan's hands pushed Duke’s jeans down over his ass, dirt- and blood-caked fingers digging in to soft white skin. Duke ran his hands down Nathan’s ribs to his waist and then reached down between Nathan’s legs as they kissed.

Their kisses were different now, and they clung on to each other not only out of tiredness but also to keep the other from moving away. Nathan’s grazed back was pressed against the wall, and his hand made its way over the grazed skin on Duke’s arm. They held each other close as they held each other's pain, and in amongst the pain they kissed; softly, gently, full tender kisses to soothe their souls. 

Their hands around each other, they moved together, and through the pain their pleasure climbed together. They reached their peak together too, spilling into each other’s hands as they looked each other in the eye; finding in that moment a kind of honesty with each other at last.

-

As the first rays of daylight washed over Haven, two figures made their way out of a dilapidated warehouse. One wore a torn and crumpled sweater with a hole in the arm, the other a dusty and blood-splattered black jacket. Both looked stiff and tired as they walked, their movements careful and muted.

They didn't talk or look at each other as they got in their respective vehicles and drove away. The warehouse they left behind creaked and groaned. The remains of the roof had shifted down a few feet, and one of the external walls leant outwards at an even more precarious angle than it had the day before, the building now even closer to collapse for what they had put it through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Don't worry; medical attention was sought and no lasting injuries were sustained.)


	4. Epilogue: You Get in a Fight?

It was late the following evening when Nathan knocked on Duke’s door.

When he came to answer, Duke winced in sympathy at the sight of the spectacular bruises now decorating Nathan's neck and face.

Nathan took a big breath in, as though to steel himself to stay put.

“You get in a fight?” asked Duke, through his own bruises.

Nathan looked him over, something like sympathy in his eyes. “You should see the other guy,” he said.

Duke nodded, huffed out a little laugh.

“Thought we might… have a conversation,” said Nathan.

“Novel,” said Duke, his tone of voice not really giving away whether or not he thought this novelty a good thing. But he opened the door wider, stood aside to let Nathan in. “Whiskey?” he asked.

Nathan stepped inside. “Thanks,” he said.

Seated at the table with their whiskey glasses (and the bottle), it took Nathan a moment to speak, and it was quiet while Duke waited for him.

“Been an idiot,” Nathan began.

Duke nodded. “To be clear,” he asked, “specifically who are you talking about?”

“Me,” replied Nathan. “I … When I remember that day, with the Barn, I think of the moment she walked away, and I remember you holding me back. And I remember asking you to go after her, and I think of how you didn't.”

Duke opened his mouth to reply, but he saw that Nathan wasn't done, so he closed it again and let Nathan continue talking.

“But I do know that you tried. I saw you jump; it was just too far. I know you only did what she asked, it's just … it hurts, and it's all jumbled together, you in between us and …” Nathan stopped abruptly and took a long sip of whiskey.

“I'm sure she had a good reason,” Duke offered gently, “For leaving. I'm sure she didn't want to go.”

Nathan nodded. “I guess. But I didn't come here to talk about Audrey. She's not here anymore. You are, and I know that I owe you my life and I've been an idiot.”

Duke nodded, and he might have spoken, but Nathan carried on. “I know you didn't have anything to do with Sam and the others’ meeting last night either.”

Nathan registered the surprise on Duke’s face and offered some context, “I wrote down their license plates before I went in the building. We tracked them down today. Not completely useless at my job,” he added with a self depreciating little smile, “But you're right, I've been…”

“Struggling?” Duke offered carefully.

Nathan nodded. “Enough that I never thanked you, never asked how you are.”

Duke smiled, “Well, some guy beat me up last night, but apart from that I've been alright.”

Nathan smiled back, “You make him pay for it?”

“I think he's reconsidering his actions,” Duke replied softly, and he poured them both some more whiskey.

“You, um … “ Nathan looked into his glass, took that deep breath in again, “get up to anything else last night?” he asked, the nervousness plain in his voice.

“Well,” began Duke cautiously, “there is this guy.” He paused for a sip of whiskey, and Nathan glanced up at him as he drank. “He can be … infuriating, but he's also gorgeous, and we kind of … have a thing. Maybe. Or, we could do, after last night, potentially. It's actually hard to say.”

“Sounds confusing,” Nathan offered.

Duke smiled at him. “That's one word for it,” he agreed. “Especially since …. Since I don't know if he's really even interested. If he wasn't just using me. If I didn't just happen to be the first warm body available. If he wasn't just working through something and I just happened to be there.”

“Guy sounds like a jerk,” Nathan replied.

“He can be, Nate, not gonna lie. But he's been through a lot. He's strong, I think he just doesn't realise it. He cares about people and he cares about this town and … he's got these blue, blue eyes that … I could just get lost in.”

“So, um … you gonna see him again?”

“I might do,” Duke replied. “If that’s what he wants. He might need to stop threatening to arrest me for no good reason though. He might need to stop hating himself long enough to notice the people around him now and then.”

“Sounds fair,” Nathan acknowledged. “Is it …” he began, and then stopped. Duke waited for him to finish. “Is it enough if he tries?” The hope was plain to hear in his voice as he reached a hand out across the table towards Duke.

Duke put down his glass and stretched his hand out to meet Nathan's. “It’s a start,” he said with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created with the aim of improving communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates all forms of positive feedback (no matter how long ago this fic was posted), including:
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